


W is for Weddings

by bois_de_cerf



Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: F/M, Jessica in lingerie, Marriage, Non-Explicit Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:25:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bois_de_cerf/pseuds/bois_de_cerf
Summary: Luke and Jess get married because they are In Love. That's it.





	W is for Weddings

**Author's Note:**

> It's midnight and I just wanted to post something. Comment if you like it/want to see more!

“You’re sure you want a bar?”  
“Luke, seriously,” Jessica sighs. “I won’t drink. I’m not made of glass, I can,” her voice lilts with sarcasm, “resist.”  
“You shouldn’t have to,” he says quietly.  
She kisses him, gently. “C’mon, and let the guests miss out on my fiance’s amazing bartending knowledge? That would be tragic.”  
He sighs, but he’s smiling.  
She continues, quieter. “We can’t have your bar there. We can have this.”  
Luke is kissing her almost before she finishes talking. That’s a definite yes. 

“Jess, seriously,” Trish sighs. “I can pay.”  
“For a dress I will wear,” Jessica holds up a finger, “once? No, you can’t, because I won’t let you.”  
“I can,” Trish insists. “I want to.”  
“Well, I don’t want you to,” Jessica smirks, knowing she’s about to get the upper hand. “And it’s my big day, so I get what I want.”  
Trish rolls her eyes. “Not how the bride’s power works. You’re supposed to be a bridezilla!” She waves her hands around, presumably imitating a bridezilla. “Order too much champagne! Complain when the tablecloth isn’t the right shade of persimmon! Insist the salmon is too crispy yet not smoked enough!”  
“I understood like three of those words,” Jessica tells her. “I’m getting this one.”  
Trish deflates a little. “If you’re sure.”  
“I’m very sure.” Jessica takes pity on her. “C’mon, let’s get froyo. I’ll let you pay.”

She does like the dress. It has, like, as much black as she thinks is acceptable for a wedding dress, and it makes her butt look great, seriously. The skirt is a weird, almost wicking fabric that she’s supposed to wear a shift underneath --- she tried to just borrow one from Trish, but Trish just bought her a stupidly expensive silver one that Jess thinks is real silk, and she feels strange wearing something so expensive.  
Honestly, the dress is better without the shift. It’s too sheer; you can see her thong when the light hits it right. It’s cheap and slutty and wrong for the situation: everything Kilgrave never let her wear. She loves it. This dress just feels right, and that’s another cliche she never thought she’d fall into. 

 

The wedding is outside. Everyone is pretending it’s romantic --- okay, not pretending, it actually is romantic --- but really, what other option is there? Jessica isn’t going to set foot in a church, the zoo smells, and a museum isn’t really them, not to mention expensive. So they’re outside, and Jessica is a little doped up on non-drowsy Claritin, but the flowers really are pretty. 

They have a few more non-alcoholic drinks on the menu than strictly necessary, but that’s not a bad thing. Luke offers to make her something. He’s really not supposed to be working the bar, they hired actual staff, but old habits die hard. She turns him down.  
“You sure?” he smirks. “I make a mean virgin Sangria.”  
Jessica makes a face. “I think I’ll stick to coffee.” They have a french press, just for the party. Jess didn’t need a french press --- she’s more than fine with the normal stuff the hotel puts out --- but Luke told her that wasn’t really right for a wedding. “We aren’t right for a wedding,” she grumbled, but it wasn’t really a necessary argument, so. French press it is. 

 

Jess talked about letting Trish give her away. She would, if Trish felt she needed to. But it’s a stupid, misogynist tradition and Jess has never really been led by anyone but herself. She walks the soft grass by herself in her cheap black flats. It’s the first time Luke has seen the dress. 

He cries when he sees her.

The whole walk, her heart is swelling: she loves him, she loves him, she loves him. God, she’s never prayed, but this devotion is all that keeps her heart beating some days.  
The officiant quiets the crowd. 

Luke speaks softly, directly to her. “I never thought I would get married again, not ever.” He swallows. “Nobody could ever replace her. Turns out, no one ever had to. You are a force unto yourself, Jessica Jones, and you could never substitute for anyone but your own self.”  
“I told you once you were a short-fused, day-drinking mess of a woman. Well, you’re still short fused, and a little bit of a mess. But this feels real. It feels… permanent. Today is a symbol of that.”  
“Jessica Jones, I am so glad to make you my wife.”  
“Stop,” Jessica scolds him, smirking. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Her face is sarcastic but her eyes sparkle wetly, just a little. God, he loves her.

“I never thought I would do this,” Jessica starts. “Get married, maybe, drunk and in Vegas. But not this,” she gestures around them, “with a white dress and flowers and vows. I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t, but. I would have minded if I didn’t with you … You have been the first person I have ever imagined a future with.” Her voice breaks, and she grows quiet. “I won’t have to imagine it anymore.”  
“Do you,” says the officiant, “Luke Cage, take Jessica Jones to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”  
“I do,” says Luke, his hands gentle over Jess’s.  
“And do you,” the officiant continues, “Jessica Jones, take Luke Cage to be---”  
“Yes,” she cuts him off. Luke had told him she probably would. “Yes, absolutely, yes.”  
The officiant sighs heavily, but soldiers on.  
“You may kiss the bride!”  
After that, everything passes in a blur of light and laughter and tears. (Luke may have unbreakable skin but he’s still only human). Pictures end up on the internet of Jess laughing, covered in icing, her husband just the same. She’s only a little mad. Mostly.

After that, there’s the wedding night, of course.  
Luke is tired, exhausted from dancing and chatting and handling too many people, and wired from his drinks and the light and Jessica, his wife now, what the hell.  
He’s thinking of that when Jess steps into the room. She’s wearing the slip Trish bought her, and the silvery white glimmers against her pale skin. Her hair is dark and her lips are red; she looks like an angel. Luke has seen her a million times, he’s touched her a million times, but right here, right now, she still takes his breath away.  
Suddenly she flushes, dark against her ivory skin. “I’m sorry— I know it’s just—“  
Luke is on her immediately, kissing her deep, trying to pour all the love and arousal and warmth he feels when he sees her into this kiss. When he pulls away, she’s breathless too.  
“Hold on,” she says, and steps out of the slip holyjesusfuck. She’s in lingerie, actual honest-to-god-lingerie. It’s even white, Jesus. Luke can feel his mouth watering.  
“You are,” he kisses her lips, “so,” her neck, “very,” her collarbone, “beautiful.”  
She looks down at him, practically glowing in the darkness. “Why don’t you show me,” she murmurs.  
And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, that left a lot unexplained. Hope you liked it anyway!


End file.
